The man's words faded from Shane's memory. He blinked and spotted a group of kids his age walking past the jewelry store. They were from another high school, the rivals a few miles east. Two of the girls and three of the guys wore letterman jackets. All of them looked happy and carefree.

He wanted to shout at them, "Don't do it! Don't be alone together, don't take chances, don't do things your way! The Bible's right about sex!" But he only watched them walk off, laughing and teasing and enjoying high school life the way it was meant to be enjoyed.

Shane turned and faced the older couple working over his ring. Why hadn't he listened? What made him and Lauren think they could beat the odds or get away with something that was so wrong? The bench he was sitting on was cold and uncomfortable, the same way he felt inside. He stood and wandered out into the mall. If only there was a way to go back, to tell God they were sorry and they needed a second chance . . .

Not that he didn't want the baby. He did. He wanted the baby and Lauren and the life they'd have together. But he wished like crazy they'd listened to God. He stared up through a glass window in the roof of the mall. God . . . we need you so bad. Please . . . He glanced back at the store, at the couple working on his ring. Please let this work out.

A verse came to mind, one that the youth group leader wore once in a while on a T-shirt. It was written in big pink letters on a funky pale green background and it said, "I know the plans I have for you."

He hadn't been in church all that much - his parents were never very good at making Sunday service - but he knew the verse anyway. It was a favorite among the kids because it talked about the very thing they all worried about - tomorrow. " 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' " It was from Jeremiah 29:11.

He sighed, and it rattled all the way to his knees. Just then, the old woman gave him a little wave and a nod that told him the ring was ready. He went to the counter and studied it. The words he'd asked them to engrave were the words that summed up how he felt about this season in their lives.

Even now.

Even now, when Lauren was seventeen and pregnant, when their future and the future of their baby hung in the balance, he loved her. He loved her the way he always had, with a singleness and a focus. Even now, because no matter when she would see the ring or read the inscription on the inside of the band, it would be true. Even now, when they were struggling; even now, when they were not sure how to get from today to tomorrow. Even now . . . he loved her.

No, they hadn't done things right. But he would stand by her. He would stand by her as long as the sun came up in the morning, as long as spring followed winter. He paid for the ring, and the woman slipped it in a little velvet gray box.

"I think your girlfriend will love it," the woman was saying.

In the background, her husband gave him a wink. "Young love is so precious."

Shane bit his lip. If they only knew. He thanked them, tucked the bag tight into his coat pocket, and left the mall. Since he was in sixth grade he'd wondered what it would be like to ask Lauren Anderson to marry him. He'd planned to take her to a beautiful mountaintop or a sandy beach overlooking the ocean. He'd get down on one knee and tell her how his life wouldn't be complete unless she was his wife.

But there was no time for anything like that now.

It was mid-April, and his parents wanted to move him to Los Angeles in two months. He needed to set his plans in motion now, to find a way to keep them together. He was the man, after all. It was his job to take care of her and the baby, and he certainly couldn't do that from three thousand miles away.

He drove to her house and knocked on her door. That was something new also. He used to give a quick knock and walk straight in. But these days he felt . . . not quite welcome. Lauren's mother looked out a side window and he heard her yell for Lauren. After a few minutes she came to the door, her eyes wide.

"I didn't know you were coming." Her sweatshirt was oversized, pulled down around her jeans.

The idea of her pregnancy starting to show sent a wave of fear over him. More proof that he really was drowning. He glanced at the window, but her mother was no longer standing there. "Hi."

"Hi." She stepped out onto the porch and crossed her arms. Her eyes were sad - the way they usually were lately - but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I felt the baby move today."

"You did?" A sense of wonder filled his heart, and it bubbled with life and awe and overwhelming love all at once. He wasn't sure what to say. This should've been something they celebrated under the same roof, ten years from now, when they were married and old enough to have children the way they'd planned. Still, the life within her was their child. Too young or not, that baby was growing bigger every day. He reached out and touched his fingers to her stomach. It felt hard and just a little rounder than before. His eyes lifted and he looked straight at her. "What did it feel like?"

"Like butterfly wings." She giggled. "I think it's a girl, Shane." She shrugged with one shoulder, and suddenly she looked like the sweet, silly girl he'd fallen for so many years ago. "I can picture her fingers tickling the inside of my stomach. That's what it felt like."

"Wow." He crossed his arms again and shook his head. "I can't imagine."

"You're the first person I've told." She lowered her chin, her eyes big and a little shy. "I wish you could feel it. It's the most amazing thing."

"Me too." He shifted his weight and stuck his hand in the pocket. The one where the ring box lay deep inside. It was too cold to go for a walk, and inside her house had too much tension. They weren't ready to go out on a date, but an urgency pressed in on him. If he didn't ask her now, another day would slip by - another day when they wouldn't have a plan or a way to stay together even if his family moved to Mars.

He coughed once and raised his shoulders up near his neck. "It's cold out here."

"Yeah." She didn't invite him in. Another bad sign. "Wanna talk in your car?"

It was the perfect idea. "Definitely." He grinned at her, but stopped short of kissing her. Her mother might be somewhere, watching.

The sun was fading, and the snow that had melted in the late afternoon had grown icy and slippery. They took careful steps to his car and climbed into the front seat, him behind the wheel and her next to him. When they were inside, her smile faded. "Is it something else? Something about our parents?"

"No, nothing like that." Shane felt a lump in his throat. Until Lauren's pregnancy, he couldn't remember ever crying. But in the past few months he'd felt tears in his eyes several times. This was one of them. "Lauren . . . " How was he supposed to do this? It wasn't anything like he'd always dreamed it would be. Still, he couldn't have meant it any more if he'd flown a banner from the top of the Empire State Building.

She had a funny look on her face, almost a smile but not quite. "What is it, Shane?"

He gulped. Then he pulled the small gray velvet box from his pocket and held it out to her. Her eyebrows lifted, and she looked from the box to him and then back to the box. He opened the lid and showed her the ring inside. His voice cracked as he asked her the question, the emotion leaking in between every word. "Marry me, Lauren. Not today or tomorrow. But as soon as we can, okay? I'll still go to college and I can become a pilot." He released a nervous laugh. "I always wanted to fly, remember?"

"Shane!" She was staring at the ring. She put her fingers over her mouth. Then she reached for it and stopped short. "Do you wanna take it out? So you can put it on my finger?"

He laughed, and it sounded nervous even to him. This wasn't going exactly the way he'd planned. His eyes met hers. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

"Oh." She gasped and gave a little giggle. "Sorry." Her eyes grew suddenly serious and she sat up straighter, smoothing the wrinkles in her sweatshirt. "Yes, Shane. I'll marry you."

"Good." He smiled, laughing a little now, too. He took the ring from the box and dropped it. "Oops."

The ring bounced on his emergency brake handle and slid down under the seat. "I think I can get it." She eased her hand down the crack next to the seat and felt around for a few seconds. "Hmm. Do you have a flashlight?"

Shane was trying to hold back, but he couldn't. Not for another minute. The laughter came slowly at first, in quiet bursts. When she saw that he'd given into the humor of the moment, she laughed too. Pretty soon they were both laughing hard, their heads back against the seats. "You know something?" Shane caught a breath and wiped at his eyes.

"What?" She was still giggling. Her words didn't come easily.

"This is how it'll be if we're married." He laughed again. "Lots of mistakes."

"But we'll - " she drew a long breath and her laughter faded - "we'll learn together. That's what'll make it work."

"That and something we should've had from the beginning." He was calmer now, the laughter gone from his voice. "God in the middle of everything."

"Yes." A shadow fell over her face. "You think He forgives us? I mean, you think He's done punishing us?"

"I don't know if this was a punishment, Lauren." He put his left hand on the steering wheel and cocked his head in her direction. "You getting pregnant, that was a consequence. Okay, maybe it was a punishment too. But it was something that happened because we invited it to happen."

"You mean - " her expression took on a hopeful look - "you think God still cares about us? After what we did?"

"Yes, I think He still cares. Listen to what I heard yesterday."

For the next half hour he told her about it, about the blue paper and the red paper and how they looked after they'd been glued together. Then he told her the rest of the pastor's message. The point was clear. Yes, they might mess up. Some of them in that room had probably already messed up, he told them. The point was to take those mistakes to God, tell Him you were sorry, and then move on in His strength and light, along His path. "See - " he took her hands in his - "we have to find that ring because I want to marry you, Lauren. Then we'll be one again and, well, our backsides won't look so messed up."

"Okay." She giggled again, but she didn't say much about his story. Shane understood. She was bound to feel guilty, and that meant she didn't feel close to God. Not that she ever really had. They were just getting close to Him when this happened. He swallowed back the desire to say anything else. She would feel close to God eventually. If they were married, he was sure about that.

Because with every day he felt surer he couldn't get by without the Lord.

"I'll try once more." She eased her fingers down along the side of the seat and felt around for half a minute. Her eyes lit up then, and she pulled the ring out and held it in the air. "Here you go." She looked at it, then at him. "It's beautiful. Now you can put it on."

"Read it first." He pointed. "There, on the inside."

She held it in the glow of the streetlights. " 'Even now'?" She looked at him. Then she held up the ring and read it again. As she did, an understanding came into her eyes. She hesitated some more, and as she looked at him this time, she blinked back tears. "Even now, we have this, right? What we've always had together?"

"Yes. I love you, Lauren Anderson. Even now, when everything in life feels crazy. I love you no matter what."

He took the ring from her, and as he slipped it on her finger, they were both smiling. It was a good sign, a glimpse of hope that maybe they would find their way together and work things out. Maybe one of their sets of parents would let them marry after high school and offer them a room. And yes, their start would be rough. There would be goofs and laughs and awkward moments, for sure. But they would have each other.

The ring - even with its small bits of crusted diamonds - shimmered in the fading light and Shane took her hand, running his thumb over the white gold. For the briefest moment, it wasn't an engagement ring at all, but the tiniest, most miniature, life preserver. Something to cling to so that just for a moment he could keep his head above water. So the drowning feeling would go away and he could know that God did indeed love them and forgive them. That together they had a future and a hope waiting for them.

Even now.

FOUR.

Angela Anderson was beyond worried.

The kids had talked about wedding plans every day for a month now, and nothing was changing their minds. Clearly they had a plan to convince both sets of parents, and they'd started with her and Bill.

"We want to get married." Shane stood straight and tall, Lauren beside him, when they broke the news. "We're engaged. We need to be together." He hesitated. "If my parents move away, I'd like to ask if I could live here, in the spare bedroom, until I turn eighteen this fall." He swallowed hard. "Then we can get married."

Bill took a deep breath and lit into the kid. "First of all, you're not engaged, and you're not - "

"Yes, we are, Daddy!" Lauren stepped forward and held up her left hand. It was the first time they'd seen the ring, and both Angela and Bill were silent for a moment. "We're engaged, and we have to be together. Shane's right."

"Do not interrupt me, young lady!" Bill continued his tirade. "You're not engaged because you're too young. You're not going to live together and you're not going to get married the summer before your senior year in high school." He lowered his voice. "None of this is going to work. You need to understand that before another day goes by."

The argument raged, and Angela could feel her heart breaking. Her husband's expression was beyond angry, but she could see his fear. He'd confided to her that he was afraid he was losing Lauren.

"We used to be so . . . so close." He stared out their bedroom window. "Sometimes I wonder if I've lost her for good."

Now his words haunted her, even as he fought with their daughter. And the pain didn't stop there. Shane's face was marked with disappointment, and a gut-wrenching despair filled Lauren's eyes. Their daughter wanted this as badly as Shane did, that much was clear. So what about that? Were she and Bill doing the right thing by forcing their daughter and the boy she loved to part? By giving them no way to make it work?

Finally Shane and Lauren left, but Lauren tried again twice more that week. With each conversation, Angela's doubt grew, and over the next month it caused a quiet crack in her facade of certainty. Shane tried his parents too, and of course they wanted nothing to do with the plan. No way on earth Lauren was moving with them, out west. And so, without the help of either set of parents, the kids really didn't have a choice.

Shane didn't have a car of his own or money or a place to stay. For a week or so he talked about quitting school and taking a job at the greasy chicken joint down the street. Then, according to Lauren, his father helped him do the math, showing him that even if he worked sixty hours a week he couldn't afford an apartment, a car, and food. Let alone support a wife and a baby. No, the kids didn't have a chance of staying together without help.

But that wasn't the only issue that kept the weeks through mid-May tense and painful. Sheila called every few days. Whereas in the past they would make small talk and find things to smile and laugh about, now the conversations were about one thing only.

"So - " Sheila's tone seemed harder with each call - "has she decided to give the baby up for adoption? That's what she needs to do, Angela. You said it was going to happen. You can force her hand in this, you know."

Angela released a heavy breath and explained, yet again, that the decision had to be Lauren's and Shane's. Of course she'd recommended that the kids give the baby up. That would seem the most logical, kindest thing for everyone involved. "But you're missing something here," she finally told Sheila.

"What's that?"

"Our kids love each other. They have for a very long time."

Sheila made a sound that suggested she couldn't have disagreed more. "They don't know what love is."

You don't know what love is. That was the phrase being bandied about among all the adults. Even Angela wanted to go with that. It was neat and tidy and gave them a reason to control the kids, figure things out for them. They didn't know what love was.

But what if they were wrong?

That fear stuck like a thorn in her conscience, and no matter how she tried to work past it or look around it, she couldn't dislodge it. By mid-May, Lauren was seven months pregnant and showing. Angela wanted her daughter to quit school so the kids wouldn't talk. Lauren explained that the kids would talk anyway, and she was right. By then everyone in their circle knew she was pregnant.

What made it more painful for Angela was the loss of Sheila's friendship. The woman had been like a sister, the one she'd shared her deepest insecurities with, her greatest joys and fears. Now Sheila grew less considerate, more accusing of Lauren and even Angela, and finally Angela made a decision. She had to spare her daughter a lifetime of being hated by Shane's family. The two were going to be apart - that much was already decided. The relationship they shared was all but over. Now it was up to Angela to keep Lauren from desiring a place in a family where the parents wanted nothing to do with her. She knew what she had to do next, and it was for Lauren's own good. Because she loved her.

On Saturday afternoon that week, Angela invited Sheila over, and the two of them sat down in the sunroom again. She studied the other woman, choosing her words with care. "Sheila, I know what you're hoping. You're hoping Bill and I were able to talk Lauren into giving the baby up for adoption."

"Yes." Sheila folded her hands in her lap. She was careful not to look too long into Angela's eyes. "It's craziness for a girl her age to keep a baby, Angela. We've been over all this." She paused. "So . . . is that why you called me here?"

"No." Angela took a slow breath and steadied herself. She had thought this through for days and now she believed it was all they had, the only chance of moving forward. "It's about the kids, about our moves coming up next month."

"Our moves?" Sheila looked up and for a fraction of a moment, the old Sheila shone through. The one who was kind and open-minded, the one who would listen and offer support no matter the subject. Every subject except this one.

"Yes." Angela poured them each a cup of coffee. She took a sip of hers and sat it back down again. Bill was out supervising a work crew doing maintenance on some trees near the new bank building in Wheaton. Lauren was up in her room writing, something she did more than ever. Angela closed her eyes and willed herself to move forward with the plan. "I think we should wait at least a month before exchanging phone numbers. After we move, I mean."

Sheila made a face, but gradually the lines in her face eased. "What'll we tell the kids? That we don't want them to talk?"

"No, nothing like that." She lowered her voice. The last thing she wanted was for Lauren to hear her. "We can blame it on the phone company. It can take weeks to set up phone service. That way it'll give Lauren a chance to have the baby and think things through without the pressure of talking to Shane every day, trying to do things as if they were still a couple."

Sheila's arms relaxed to her sides and her face looked almost pleasant. "I like it." She looked at Angela, her eyes imploring her to understand. "I'm glad you're helping me on this. I mean friendship aside, we have to care about our kids. They're too young to be together this way."

"You're right." Angela wasn't so certain, but this was all she and Sheila had left now, a series of actions and reactions, a practice in going through the motions. "Let's see if we can keep them apart for a month, month and a half."

"So when we get to LA - and Shane is coming with us to LA, regardless of what he thinks - I give you our new number, but you don't give it to Lauren until forty-five days later. You call me with your new number, but I don't give it to Shane for the same period. Something like that?"

"Exactly."

"I like it a lot. It's a good plan."

"It is. I feel the same as you. They need time apart." The lie made Angela wince. Lauren and Shane would disown them for life if they could hear this conversation. This meeting wasn't about making Sheila happy or believing that the kids were better off staying away from each other. It was about protecting Lauren from the hostility that Shane's family held toward her. For that, she would lie even if it meant hurting Lauren in the short term. She looked at Sheila. "It's only for a month, maybe six weeks. After that they can catch up and we'll see what happens."

Sheila was already on her feet. "Very well." She looked at her watch. "I can't stay. I have a church dinner tonight." Her eyes met Angela's one last time. She stopped short of flashing that phony smile Angela had seen too often in the past months. Instead she let the corners of her mouth raise just a little. "This isn't easy for any of us, Angela." She paused. "Please let us know if you get anywhere with Lauren. There are so many wonderful families waiting to adopt children. It would be a great sacrifice if Lauren would consider it."

Angela wanted to spit at her. A great sacrifice for Lauren? Yes, and a great victory for Sheila. Angela took a few steps toward the door and held it open wide so Sheila wouldn't stay longer than necessary. Then, since she was on a roll, she told yet another lie. "I was right about adoption, Sheila. Lauren's leaning more toward it everyday."

"She is?" Sheila's eyes sparked to life, the same way they did when Bloomingdale's announced a storewide sale.

Angela felt sick to her stomach. She bit her lip and nodded. "Yes. I'm almost positive."

Sheila left, spouting platitudes and half smiles, making comments about things being meant to be and life working out for the best and how every change was like another season meant to be savored and how nothing stays the same anyway.

The silence after Sheila left gave Angela her first peaceful moment all morning. She sat down on the sofa, leaned back, and closed her eyes. She'd done it. She'd convinced Sheila to stay out of her life, out of her daughter's life. At least for a month or more. That meant Lauren could have her baby in peace, without constant phone calls and directives from Sheila about why the baby should be given up and when.